The Unexpected Findings of Muraki Kazutaka
by kura-wolfgoddess
Summary: An unexpected start to Tsuzuki's day leads him to a run-in with Muraki. Stuck with the doctor, Tsuzuki learns a multitude of unexpected aspects of Kazutaka. It makes him wonder who the doctor truly is. WARNING:Tsuraki.Rating may change. AU and a bit OOC
1. Prelude: Hole In The Floor

Before starting the prelude, I of course mus state the obvious. **_I (unfortunately) DO NOT OWN YAMI NO MATSUEI! _**I do however own the plot of this story and have twisted Muraki's personality to fit my own tastes.

* * *

Tsuzuki was late. Tsuzuki was very late. Tsuzuki was _extremely_ late. So late, that the amethyst eyed man contemplated simply not attending work at all, and yet he still found himself outside the door of Tatsumi's office to explain why he was so very, extremely late. He knew the kagetsukai was not going to be pleased. Tsuzuki also knew that his excuse would likely, more than likely, _beyond_ likely further enrage the secretary. So it was with ill omens hanging over Tsuzuki's head that he went to open the door, all the while wishing that a hole would just suck him up and spew him out elsewhere, anywhere, but here. Perhaps Tsuzuki simply was not familiar with the old saying "be careful what you wish for" or perhaps he was simply too simple to give such a saying any merit. Regardless of either situation, rather than feeling the brush of cool metal against his fingertips, Asato felt his feet give way abruptly beneath him followed by the rest of his body.


	2. Afternoon Tea

Here's the first official chapter. I hope you enjoy the story though any real action does not begin until the next chapter. I will do my best to add a longer update in a timely fashion.

* * *

Muraki Kazutaka had the simple intentions of retiring to his kitchen, his favorite room, with a cig in one hand, a steaming cup of pomegranate green tea in the other, and the daily newspaper propped up on his knees. And so he did. It wasn't until after his evening ritual that things began to stray from the ordinary.

* * *

The silver haired doctor shrugged out of his white trench coat revealing a pair of snug black jeans and turtleneck top. He slung the trench onto an immaculately clean leather armchair in his loft living room. He proceeded into his kitchen and set the kettle on the stove. With the proficiency of any habitual gesture he deftly flicked a cigarette out of its package and lit it with one hand while simultaneously pulling a jug of distilled water from the fridge with the other. He filled the kettle and set it to boil on the stove then settled himself on his much loved, much worn kitchen table chair. He swung his legs up onto the table and kicked his shoes off, his toes wriggled in the delight of being free of their confines. Kazutaka rocked back in his chair, balancing on the two hind legs and casually shook out the paper. For a moment all was silent, save the occasional rustle of the paper and soft whisper of exhaled smoke. Gradually the room filled with a quiet humming that grew to a high shrill. Kazutaka put down the paper and gracefully held his cig between two long, elegant fingers. He allowed gravity to claim the chair and suddenly all four legs rested back on the kitchen tile.

_Thump._

The doctor crossed back to the stove and reached into a frosted glass cupboard, his fingers snagging a tea cup. He set it down on the black granite counter tops.

_Clink._

Muraki turned the stove off and poured the steaming tea into his cup. A delicious smelling cloud wafted off the cup and the silver haired man's lips curved up into a slight, savory smile. He reclaimed his chair and assumed his earlier position. Once again a comfortable silence settled upon the kitchen, broken only by the occasionally clink of china. It came as an exorbitant surprise when while Muraki went to sip his tea a sudden, thunderclap of sound rolled over the kitchen. The doctor's hand paused halfway to his parted lips and his eyes widened almost comically. In the silent moment following, time slowed to a cliched stop. The only movement was the flutter of embers and ash that drifted from the poised cigarette.


	3. A Familiar Stranger

Tsuzuki landed unceremoniously and rather uncomfortably, on the unyielding slate floor of a stylish and modern kitchen. The kitchen in question was not only designed to look good, but it was obvious that it was put to use often and with expertise. Professional and expensive copper cookware hung above the stainless steel hood of the stove. Tsuzuki took in his surroundings with an appreciative eye, his mind mulling over the buffet of sweets that could be prepared here. He briefly wondered if the owner could make a good apple pie. The amethyst eyed man spotted the impressive range and vast fridge, as well as the intricate backsplash of black glass flecked with silver specks.

Tsuzuki's eyes widened in wary surprise as he spotted a man with equally as silver hair who bore an astounding resemblance to a certain doctor. The two had the same haircut, the same molten silver eyes, and even smoked the same brand of cigarettes. They shared almost every trait Tsuzuki had studied, memorized, _imprinted_ upon his mind so that when the time came he would be able to take Muraki down. No matter how long it took, Tsuzuki's determination to destroy the nightmare that still plagued his partner inspired him to push past his own demons, even if most of those had been brought about by the doctor himself. If Tsuzuki didn't know better he would say that _this_ silver haired man enjoying a late afternoon tea was Muraki. But this man did not have the same air of malice, the same evil glee. Besides, Tsuzuki was hard pressed to imagine the doctor in anything but his white, though sometimes bloodied, trench coat. It was also terribly difficult to even consider Muraki without his trademark smirk or leer. Yet here was this identical man dressed in casual, body hugging black with an expression of absolute shock painted in those silver eyes and parted lips.

_How Curious._

_Who was this familiar stranger?_

Ponderings aside, Tsuzuki smiled sheepishly as the strangeness of the situation sank in. No wonder the poor soul was shocked, it's not every day that a shinigami falls into your kitchen. The frozen man made not a sound nor moved a muscle, in fact he looked even more startled than before. The stranger made an odd strangled sound in the back of his throat. His eyes flicked around with uncertainty. He licked his lips and cleared his throat, seeming to gather himself for a moment then placed his teacup back on its delicate plate.

_Clink._

He froze momentarily, one finger running around the rim of the china cup. A thick, moon kissed fringe of hair curtained the stranger's face. Suddenly those thoughtful, swirling, mercury eyes fixed onto Tsuzuki's violet ones, and with a final lick and quirk of his lips the familiar stranger spoke.

_"Good evening, Tsuzuki-san."_


	4. Office Interlude 1

Office Interlude 1

Watari glanced up from his week late paperwork that he was frantically copying for Tatsumi. God knows the secretary was the most intimidating shinigami of them all. A faint sound caught the blond's attention.

"Hisoka did you hear that?"

The green eyed youth glanced up from the armchair he had obviously claimed his own. A stack of books swayed precariously on one side and four more were tucked back into the armchair itself, not including the one Hisoka held in his hand. A small end table sat on the other end of the chair, steam from a cup of late afternoon tea curling up into the air.

"What?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That... that shriek?"

"Shriek?"

"Yeah, at least I think it was a shriek."

Hisoka shrugged and glanced back down at his book.

"It's probably just the copier."

"Yeah, you're right. It probably is the copier."

Watari faced the copier again and eyed the ominous stack of paperwork he still had to do.

"Or maybe it's the all nighters I've been pulling to get this work finished", the blond muttered.


	5. The Houseguest

Tsuzuki's eyes narrowed and he scrambled up off the floor.  
"Muraki." Tsuzuki's voice was low and accusing, but a subtle, barely there undertone of confusion colored his words more question than threat. A small, hesitant smile touched Muraki's lips.  
"Tsuzuki?"

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? If it's nothing than why am I here?"

"How should I know? Contrary to popular opinion I am not omniscient."

"You must have done _something_!"

"I assure you I did not."

Tsuzuki proceeded to eye Muraki warily in much the same manner as prey that cautiously sizes up a potential predator. Muraki calmly returned his attention to his tea, his expression that of deep contemplative thought.

"You are always most welcome to leave," the silver haired man suggested impassively.

Surprise and suspicion swirled around in Tsuzuki's eyes as he wondered what Muraki was playing at. The shinigami had long since learned that playing games with the doctor often yielded deadly results.

"What's the catch?"

"Catch? You need only walk through the front door. Here, allow me to show you the way."

Muraki rose from his seat with liquid grace and swiftly strode through the kitchen and living room. In one fluid motion he pulled the door open with one hand, while the other presented the open doorway with a flourish. The doctor wore a winning smile that seemed, even to Tsuzuki's apprehensive eyes, surprisingly genuine. The shinigami had followed the other man into the living room and now stood a mere foot away, his feet firmly rooted to the ground.

"You do not wish to leave? Muraki"s hand tightened on the door, his knuckles bone white.

"Well... yes, but this just seems too easy. I want to know what you're planning Muraki. I want to know what all this," he waved a hand indicating the loft apartment, "means."

"Why, Tsuzuki-san I was merely enjoying a cup of tea, surely there is no harm in that?"

No, there wasn't, and that was the problem. Muraki Kazutaka didn't just _enjoy a cup of tea_, it was far too mundane and innocent. Tsuzuki met the other's gaze searching those silver depths for some hidden hint that might betray Muraki's true intentions, perhaps a sadistic glint here, or a malicious gleam there. Those mercury eyes, however, seemed not even to belong to the silver haired doctor, but were instead reminiscent of another man. This man Tsuzuki had met long ago, when he had burst through the threshold of god's house and beheld the angelic man humbly kneeling while salty tears streaked down his moon kissed face, leaking from a single eye. Those tears had been indubitable, though for what Muraki would cry Tsuzuki could not fathom. Here again the shinigami saw that same sincerity, tinged with what could only be perceived as fear or nervousness. It tickled his curiosity, what could this man possibly fear? Tsuzuki knew that while he himself was a force to be reckoned with, Muraki had defeated him time and time again, had brought him to his knees in desperation, how could the doctor ever fear _that_?

Tsuzuki slowly shook his head.

"No, I won't"

"No?" Muraki's handsome smile faltered. "Why ever not?"

Tsuzuki crossed his arms.

"I want to know why you're doing this, what you're trying to hide." Muraki's wavering smile fell and his features hardened.

"And, what may I ask, would lead you to believe that I am in the mood for a house guest?"

"If you re not in the mood for _one_, you wouldn't want me to invite the entire bureau over, would you?"

"Is that a threat, Tsuzuki-san?"

"Perhaps." The two men stood that way for a moment as Muraki searched those famous amethysts for something unknown to their owner. His lips pressed together into a displeased line and his hand slowly pushed the door closed.

_Click._

"Very well, have a seat." Muraki's quiet, yet authoritative voice rolled over the stifling silence that had settled upon the room.

Tsuzuki accepted the proffered seat, his eyes roaming over the contemporary furnishings. Funny, he had always thought the doctor would prefer a more classical style. The man in question had taken the seat opposite Tsuzuki, his fingers laced across his lap. He did not, however, return Tsuzuki's gaze, those silver eyes wandering over the Fender Stratocaster that hung on the wall above an impressive stereo system accompanied by one of the most vast music collections the shinigami had ever seen. Another one of the doctor's surprises.

"What is it that you want, Asato? I believe I have made my opinions of your unannounced arrival quite clear."

"I want to stay, just for a while and in return for your hospitality this place will be left untouched by the bureau." Muraki turned and captured Tsuzuki's gaze, his eyes molten with the intensity of the stare.

"Forever?"

"What do you mean?"

"Even _if_ we happen to meet in the future surrounded by most _unfortunate_ events that may or may not implicate me in any suspicious light, you will neglect to return to this place. In return I will also adhere to those rules."

The outrage that had begun to build up in Tsuzuki's eyes quickly subsided into puzzlement. Muraki was without a doubt hiding something, something that the man would sacrifice himself for. That in and of itself was not an attribute that Tsuzuki would ever give the silver haired man, and if he had not heard Muraki utter the words himself he would not have believed it possible.

_Just what was it that Tsuzuki had unknowingly stumbled upon?_


	6. Late Night Snack

I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed/alerted this story and apologize for the serious delay in updating. I recently got a new computer, because I had malware on the other one which you can imagine is no fun to write on, especially because my screen was all screwed up and jumps around like static on a TV. -_- BUT this is no longer an issue! I have an awesome new comp and should update more often now. My school schedule this year is grueling so the updates will be random, but no more multi-month delays! Also, free cookies to anyone who knows what's up with Muraki at the end of the chapter :Pis

ALSO I do not own the snippet of a song that is in this chapter. That song belongs to the band Saving Abel (It's called addicted) I also do not own Yami no Matsuei, nor any of its characters

* * *

The two sat staring at each other, the doctor with his legs elegantly crossed and silver eyes tinted with a looming insecurity, the shinigami with clenched hands and thinly veiled distrust shining in his violet eyes. Amethyst locked with quicksilver in a brief contest of wills. Muraki gave a curt not and stood.

"The hour grows late and I would imagine that you would like to have rooms in which to rest".

Tsuzuki immediately tensed, imagining what the doctor might constitute as a good night's rest. He stayed rooted to the couch while Muraki proceeded into the hallway, his voice echoing back to Tsuzuki,

"Are you coming, Tsuzuki-san?"

Muraki led Tsuzuki into a richly furnished room at the center of which sat a sinfully soft looking bed. A black velvet duvet was accompanied by plump, mint green pillows. The doctor passed by the metal side table and into a guest bath with a tub big enough for five. Green glass subway tiles lined the shower walls in a staggered pattern and slate hexagon stones covered the floor. It was large and lavish both of which Tsuzuki expected from his host, but this modern designer touch was quite the surprise. As soon as the doctor had finished presenting the quarters he already had one foot out the bedroom door, stopping only to wish the shinigami a good evening and to inform him that dinner was at six. Curious amethyst eyes followed his retreating figure.

* * *

Dinner was a short and silent affair. The food was delicious, but the doctor spoke little and only when necessary. Tsuzuki was unsure as to how he should handle this new, casual Muraki. After the meal, Tsuzuki had retreated back to his room to spend some time puzzling out his current situation. He was sure that it wouldn't be long before his coworkers would notice his absence and as strange as it was, he had no intentions of reassuring them or revealing his location. He would honor the surprisingly sincere pact he had made. Tsuzuki settled himself into bed with a book about famous guitarists. It certainly was not the occult genre he had expected to find in the doctor's home. The entire place was unexpected and begged only one question to be asked; did he really know anything about his silver haired host?

Tsuzuki sighed and pushed such distracting thoughts from his mind whilst he snuggled into the heavenly king sized bed and relished in the feel of the silk pajamas he had found in a dresser straight from an Ikea catalog. He lifted a hand to stifle a yawn as he flipped the pages of the book. His eyes began to droop and the words to blur. Ever so slowly, the book began to slip, sliding gently from his fingers and falling with a soft thud onto the floor.

Some time later, Tsuzuki awoke with a start, amethyst eyes blinking blearily against the soft light of the bedside lamp. Briefly glancing at the clock, he saw that it was well after midnight, certainly too late for him to be up. He was about to roll over and resume sleeping when the guardian's ears caught a soft rustling sound. Any thoughts of sleep fled in the wake of his piqued curiosity and prompted him to slip out from under the covers. He tiptoed to the door, and peered cautiously out into the hallway, eyes flicking first right then left in search of the source of his disturbance. More rustling sounded from down the hall near the kitchen or living room. Thinking that the doctor was up to some late night shenanigans, Tsuzuki started down the hall, his bare feet whispering against wood.

As he approached the end of the hallway, movement attracted his eye to the living room wall where shadows cast from the stove light played. Amethyst eyes also alighted upon a hastily discarded jacket and gloves that had been tossed over the back of the leather sectional. Tsuzuki moved from out of the hallway shadows and crossed the threshold onto the kitchen tile. It looked as if the doctor had just returned from a late night trip and was in the mood for a midnight snack. Muraki seemed rather distracted and paid no attention to Tsuzuki's presence. The doctor now sported a tight, black, short sleeve shirt with matching jeans and heavy duty boots. Tsuzuki's eyes widened dramatically as he caught sight of the elaborate tattoo that twined up from a corded wrist to a muscular bicep. Muraki crossed the kitchen to retrieve something from the fridge and while doing so absent mindedly brushed back a few silver locks. Tsuzuki's jaw dropped to the floor as he espied the multiple piercings that decorated the other man's ear. There was no way that this bad boy could be the doctor that he so dearly loved to hate.

A soft, triumphant exclamation drew the guardian's attention back to the man in question who was in the process of taking the collected ingredients to the counter next to the stove. The silver haired man hummed softly under his breath while he cracked pasta strands in half and dropped them into the pot of boiling water that sat on the stove burner. Another pot sat adjacent to the first, filled with a simmering sauce that smelled heavenly. As he stood there, stirring the pasta and sauce, the humming grew steadily into song, each word sung with a steady proficient voice.

_I'm so addicted to _

_All the things you do _

_When you're goin' down on me _

_In between the sheets _

_And the sounds you make _

_Is so unlike anything _

_When you're loving me _

Meanwhile, Tsuzuki just stood there awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, watching the infamous doctor and murderer in his clinging clothes while he sang highly inappropriate music and cooked pasta. He honestly could not think of anything stranger, and had yet to pick his jaw up from off of the floor. The food did smell delicious though and his stomach growled loudly. The singing abruptly halted and the silver haired man spun around to stare at the shinigami in open surprise and what appeared to be thinly veiled mild embarrassment. Tsuzuki was confused by the surprise that glinted in those silver eyes. Surely his presence in the house could not have been forgotten?

"Good evening?(A/N yes this is supposed to be a question mark) Although I guess technically it's already the morning".

The awkward manner in which Tsuzuki was addressed did not at all fit with the Muraki he knew, even less than the music. Still wide eyed and shocked, he neglected to answer the greeting, and before he knew it a plate of pasta was offered to him. The shinigami looked up at the other and was startled to see a small friendly smile.

"Better eat it while it's hot".

Tsuzuki nodded and carefully took the steaming plate then followed the other to the small kitchenette table. Sitting across from the other he alternated between eating and staring.

"Is it any good?"

"Huh? OH! Yeah it's pretty good". Tsuzuki offered a weak smile.

"I'm glad. Half the time my food's hardly edible, but I'm used to it".

The guardian just nodded confusedly, eyebrows drawn in thought. The way Muraki was acting was very strange. Earlier at dinner he had seemed rather confident in his cooking ability and wasn't nearly half as friendly as he was being now. He seemed almost...nervous which was very strange for the doctor. He was acting like a completely different person. Tsuzuki was especially distracted by the tattoo and could hardly tear his gaze away. The silver haired man in question had just eaten the last forkful of pasta and had stood up to clear the dishes.

"You done?" Friendly silver eyes stared at Tsuzuki expectantly.

"Uh yeah...thanks". The other smiled and whisked his plate away. Tsuzuki yawned and stood.

"Um...thanks for the food, but I'm going to head back to bed".

"Sure thing, sleep well".

"...You too".

It was strange how informal Muraki spoke, and the amethyst eyed man cast a glance back over his shoulder on his way out of the kitchen before ambling down the hallway to snuggle back into his bed.


End file.
